Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic
by GuyWhoWrites
Summary: The stories of Revan and Meetra Surik from the Mandalorian Wars to the death of Darth Traya. Read, review and enjoy.
1. The Revanchist

_A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…_

**Part One**

**The Fall**

**Twelve to six years before the death of Darth Traya**

**Chapter One**

**The Revanchist**

Three-hundred standard years before the Great War between the Galactic Republic and the Sith Empire, Dantooine was nothing more than a grassland world of farmers, traders and a handful of Jedi. In years to come the planet would play a major role in galactic events, but in the decades that succeeded the defeat of Exar Kun and the redemption of Ulic Qel-Droma, Dantooine was of interest only to those who called it home, and few beings in the wider galaxy gave it a thought.

It was this anonymity and capacity for oversight that had drawn the Jedi to Dantooine in the first place, and they had constructed a small enclave for themselves, low-standing in height and made primarily from wood shipped in from off-world, as Dantooine had precious few trees and the Jedi were reluctant to blight the landscape of their newest retreat. Once the enclave had been constructed, complete with living quarters, training grounds and even a Council Chamber, it was not long before Padawans, Knights and Masters alike began to flock to the world in order to escape the stress of life in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant or in the Jedi Tower on Taris, both bustling urban worlds where the demands on a Jedi's time were many and various.

Alek Squinquargesimus was one such Jedi. A human from the little-known world of Quelli, and a Knight of the Order – having attained the rank several years prior to his arrival on Dantooine – Alek had chosen to specialise in the way of the Jedi Guardian, those Jedi who trained extensively in lightsaber combat in order to defend the Galactic Republic from its enemies and defend its people from all those wishing to do them harm. Despite this, Alek was also strong in the Force, and was widely regarded as one of the most promising members of the Order.

Alek would have been lying if he were to claim that this had not gone to his head a little, and he occasionally allowed himself to indulge in arrogance and pride, dangerous emotions for a Jedi that could easily lead to the Dark Side of the Force. Of course, in those moments where arrogance and pride dominated his mind, Alek would never have believed that he could be seduced by the Dark Side – such were the nature of arrogance and pride. But afterwards, he would always realise that he had gone too far, and he would recite the Jedi Code to himself in order to clear his head and reaffirm his dedication to the Order and its principles.

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._

_There is no passion, there is serenity._

_There is no chaos, there is harmony._

_There is no death, there is the Force._

In these words Alek would always manage to find comfort, and they reassured him that, if he remained strong and committed to the cause of peace and justice, then he would avoid the Dark Side.

Nonetheless, Alek was an unconventional Jedi in ways that, though peculiar, were hardly morally objectionable. Throughout his time with the Order, Alek had eschewed the wearing of traditional Jedi robes, preferring instead to don an orange body suit that clung to his two-metre tall, muscular form and the lightsaber that was currently attached to his belt was of a bizarre design; short-handled and long-bladed. It had been the recommendation of Master Raskta Fenni, the Order's Echani Weapons Master, that Alek adopt the unique design.

"Your style is better suited to a smaller handle," she had told him after observing a training session, back when Alek had been a Padawan. "You hold the lightsaber almost exclusively in your right hand, which leaves much of the hilt exposed. A smaller handle will remove this weakness from your technique." Alek remembered that she had considered her next words very carefully. "But your imposing height requires a weapon with some reach. Your one-handed approach renders a double-bladed weapon impractical, but a longer blade than standard should fit you nicely."

It had been as simple as that. From then on Alek had used a training saber similar to the one he now wielded, and Master Fenni had remarked on the vast improvement in his abilities. Quickly, Alek had learned to use his free hand to augment his defences through the Force, throwing up Force barriers to protect himself and disarming his opponents from a distance. By the time he had reached Knighthood, Alek had become widely acknowledged as one of the most gifted swordsmen in the Order, surpassing even some of the Council Masters. Although Council members like the rugged and battle-hardened Vrook Lamar and the friendlier, younger Kavar would still easily best him if he went up against them, Alek was confident that he would able to defeat Master Dorak or Master Zhar if he were to ever cross blades with them.

And there was another whom Alek was sure would triumph over him if they were ever to duel. He had done so in every practice duel they had ever fought, after all. Thankfully, this rival was also Alek's closest and most trusted friend.

Alek was lying half-asleep on his bed when his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his door opening and someone speaking to him.

"Come on Squint, we can't be late."

The use of his nickname reassured Alek that he was being spoken to by a friend. Even so, it took him a few moments to clear his slumber and register exactly who it was who was speaking to him and what they were talking about.

"Late for what?" he asked sleepily.

"The speech," came the reply, addressing Alek as though he were an idiot for forgetting.

"Oh yes, of course," Alek murmured as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bunk. He rubbed his eyes to clear his vision and when he looked up he could see clearly, stood in the doorway with one hand on her hip and a half-amused, half-exasperated expression on her face, Meetra Surik. "Go on ahead," he told her as he stood, "I'll be right behind you."

Meetra nodded to him in a gesture of farewell before striding from the doorway and off down the corridor. Alek, true to his word, was hot on her heels and caught up with his friend only a few steps away from his door.

"Do we still have no idea what he's going to say?" Meetra asked him.

"None," Alek replied, sighing slightly. "He's keeping everyone in the dark about this. Although my guess," he continued, considering the news of recent events that had filtered through to the enclave via the Holonet, "is that he'll base his arguments around how we, the guardians of the Republic, should do more than sit and wait when the Republic is actually invaded. You know the Mandalorians managed to push back Admiral Karath's fleet at Vanquo?"

Meetra seemed stunned. "The Holonet never mentioned that!"

"Well they wouldn't," Alek reasoned. "The Senate still wields some measure of control over the Holonet, after all, and they wouldn't want the electorate knowing how close and how much of a threat the Mandalorians really are. Although," he said in a hushed, conspiratorial tone, "I did hear from Xaset Terep that the Senate petitioned the Council for military aid again. That's the third time since the Mandalorians entered Republic space."

"And what was the Council's response?" Meetra asked. Alek did not reply with words, instead giving her a speaking look. "Of course," Meetra said, in a sigh that very clearly conveyed her disappointment with the Council's decision. "I don't understand why they're not helping. How many innocent people have died since Mandalore began this crusade of his? And that's not to mention the number of Republic soldiers that have died in the last year alone."

"That's probably what he's going to talk about today," Alek said, and Meetra nodded her agreement.

They reached the large, circular practicing room early, and there was only one person there to greet them. His shoulder-length brown hair was immaculately kept, as was his beard, and his pale brown robes seemed to flow around him like water. He greeted both of them with a smile.

"Alek, Meetra," he said, looking genuinely pleased to see them. "Thank you both for coming. Before we begin, I have to tell you both that I've abandoned my birth name. You both knew that I was thinking about it," he added, in answer to the mild looks of surprise that appeared on both of their faces. "What our cause needs is a symbol to rally around, not a leader who can be singled out and assassinated."

"So what will you call yourself now?" Meetra asked.

"What we will undertake is a cause of revanchism, a cause to take back what we have lost to the Mandalorians. The choice was simple after I had considered that simple fact; I will call myself the Revanchist from now on."

"That's something of a mouthful," Meetra pointed out, and Alek nodded in concurrence. "It won't exactly roll off the tongue of a Holonet reporter. Why don't you shorten it?"

"Revanchist… Revanche… Revan… Revan." Alek saw his friend's eyes attain a fire in them that had not been present before, a flame of inspiration, a spark of the Force's will. "Revan it shall be."

The newly-christened Revan began to pace backwards and forwards as they waited. The forthcoming speech had been the talk of the enclave for weeks, and although opinions were divided on whether intervening in the war against the Mandalorians or listening to the Council members was the wisest course of action, all were interested to hear the argument that the most vocal advocate of the former wanted to put forward.

It took almost an hour for the room to fill, and when Revan ascended a small raised platform at one end of the room, it took several moments before everyone realised and quieted themselves to listen to him speak.

"Friends and fellow Jedi," he began, in a clear and carrying voice that Alek was sure he had rehearsed, "for millennia our Order has stood for peace and justice. We are the guardians of the Republic and the enemies of darkness. And yet now, in the Republic's darkest hour, when it is most in need of its guardians, the High Council turns its back on the suffering of millions upon millions under the Mandalorian onslaught! While the beings of the Republic army and navy bravely face the enemy that seeks destruction above all, what would the Council have us do? We sit here, safe in our enclave, like the ysalamiri of Myrkr, content to cover ourselves in the Force and hide from the vornskr that hunt us. But that is not how Jedi ought to be, rather we should be aiding our allies in the Republic and taking the fight directly to the Mandalorians!" Revan allowed a small degree of noise, mostly excited whispering and shouts of support, to break out before continuing. "What will it take, I wonder, before the Council responds? Will the Mandalorians have to be threatening the Core itself? Maybe the Council will finally act when the clans raise their banners above the skyscrapers of Coruscant itself?" Cheers at this. "I say that we must end this now, before the Republic and the virtues that it stands for – justice, truth, democracy, freedom – are forever wiped from the galaxy in the face of relentless warmongering and bloodlust. In two standard weeks, I will depart from Dantooine to combat the Mandalorians. Those of you who wish to join me may do so. None will be forced into joining, but I would ask each and every Jedi, both on Dantooine and off-world, to consider their conscience and ask themselves very seriously whether they would be able to face themselves, day by day, if they knew that, because of them, millions had suffered and died. Any Jedi, from the lowest Padawan to the Council Masters themselves, is capable of great deeds," Revan went on. "Together, as we have done before throughout the galaxy's history, we can change the fates of worlds, of species, of entire civilisations. Join me, all of you who wish to follow the true path of the Jedi, and help me to rid the galaxy of this encroaching darkness!"

Roars and applause met the end of Revan's speech, and Alek found himself joining in as fervently as anyone. As Revan stepped down from the platform, Alek rushed over to him, with Meetra not far behind him.

"What did you think?" Revan asked them, the ghost of a smile playing across his face.

"If you hadn't been a Jedi," Meetra said, "you would have made an excellent Senator." Alek clasped his friend on the shoulder.

"Even without that speech, I'd have been with you," he assured Revan. "Until death or victory, Revan, I am with you."

"I knew I could rely on you, old friend," Revan replied, grasping Alek's shoulder in return. "From our days training together as Padawans I knew that I would always be able to rely on you."

They embraced, as good as brothers. Then Meetra spoke.

"I'm with you as well," she vowed. "Defeating the Mandalorians has to be the Order's first priority."

"Thank you, Meetra," Revan replied. "Master Kreia was right when she assured me that you would follow me."

"It was Master Kreia who convinced me that the Mandalorians need to be fought," Meetra admitted. "And it seems that most of the Jedi here are with us as well," she noted. "Those who disagreed with you have already left, and look at how many remain." She gestured at the small crowd that still remained, and Alek saw Revan smile.

"If these Jedi are all that join me," he told Alek and Meetra, "then I am content."


	2. Counter Attack

**Chapter Two **

**Counter Attack**

Although the Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders had managed to push the Republic forces as far back as Duros, that was as far as they had got. The arrival of Revan, Alek, Meetra and their force of Jedi dissidents had proved decisive, and quickly the Mandalorians had begun to lose ground, pushed slowly back towards Mandalore itself.

But all and sundry knew that complete victory over the Mandalorians was a long way off yet. Even the most optimistic projections of how long the war would last estimated that the carnage would go on for at least another six standard months. And despite the best efforts of the Jedi, and Revan in particular, to win quick and decisive victories against the Mandalorians, the arrival of the Jedi had not been the miracle that many among the Republic military had hoped that it would be.

Even so, Revan refused to allow himself to be disheartened, and the constant advance of the Jedi, albeit slow, was serving to raise the morale of both the Republic's soldiers and its citizens. With every victory against the Mandalorians, more Jedi joined Revan's faction, and by now even some Jedi Masters had defied the Council. Masters Arren Kae and Raskta Fenni, driven no doubt by their Echani heritage that gave them an innate love of physical combat, had led this new wave of rebellion, and Revan had welcomed them with open arms. And although all those who had joined Revan were now wanted by the Jedi Council, few were perturbed by this, accepting their new status as criminals if that was the price they paid to do, what they believed, was the just thing.

And so the Jedi – or the Revanchists as they now known across the galaxy – were preparing now to advance to Taris, a planet that had been under the control of the Mandalorians for the last two standard years. Although a resistance movement had sprung up in the lower levels of the city, comprised of an unlikely and ragtag coalition of the Taris Security Force, the Tarisian swoop gangs, the Taris Home Guard and the remnants of the Jedi presence on the planet, it had been crushed by the Mandalorian Field Marshal Cassus Fett, and until the arrival of the Revanchists the Mandalorian warriors had been all but unchallenged. They had allowed the Exchange, one of the galaxy's largest and most powerful crime syndicates, almost free reign over the planet, and slaves, spice and black market weapons had flowed out of Taris as swiftly as blood flowing from a fresh wound.

Revan, however, intended to put an end not just to the Mandalorian occupation of the world that currently lay beneath his capital ship, the great city dominating its surface like a scar across a face, but also to the activities of the Exchange. Taris was, to all intents and purposes, the Exchange's base of operations, and Revan knew that dealing with them here might just be enough to cripple the Exchange such that within one standard decade they would be as insignificant a force in the galaxy's criminal underworld as a group of pickpockets in the vast underbelly of Coruscant.

Standing on the bridge of the _Valiant_, his personal _Interdictor_-class cruiser, Revan sat in the captain's chair, listening to the slow countdown that heralded the jump into hyperspace, and mentally preparing himself for the ferocious battle that would be fought to gain supremacy in the space above the planet. Beside him stood Alek, hands clasped behind his back and a look of grim determination on his hard, angular face. Ever since the Jedi Council had issued a warrant for their arrests, Alek had gone under the pseudonym of 'Malak', and all had taken to calling him by his new name.

"This is the reckoning," Revan said, loud enough so that only Malak would hear him. "This is the turning point in this war. I can feel it."

"I sense it too," Malak replied. "Taris will decide the victor in this war."

"Is Meetra ready?" Revan asked his chief lieutenant.

"She is in her trance as we speak, master." The title was a mere honorific, and without any real standing. Revan was master only insofar as he was the Jedi's commander.

"Good. Her battle meditation will prove decisive in this battle. The Mandalorians might have started to give ground but they should _never _be underestimated. We have a hard fight ahead of us."

"The Force is with us," Malak reassured him, and Revan was surprised to find that his words succeeded in their intended purpose. "It dictates our actions and ensures the defeat of our enemies."

Revan remained silent, not wishing to comment on the intricacies of the Force or its will, if it had one at all. That was a matter that was best left to the libraries, archives and debating rooms of the Temples and enclaves of the Order, where the Consulars spent their hours mining the depths of the galaxy's mysteries for truth. A noble pursuit, but not his own. Like Malak, Revan was a Guardian, and his calling had always been to action.

"Hyperspace jump in three," the voice of the communications officer rang out across the ship, "two, one."

The ship and all aboard her lurched forward as the stars themselves became nothing but blurred streaks of white that were gone before Revan's mind could really register them for what they were.

And then the _Valiant _stopped, and Revan had a few brief moments to survey the Mandalorian ships orbiting Taris, guarding it from any Republic relief force. Shortly behind the _Valiant _came more ships of Revan's fleet. Saul Karath's _Leviathan_, the _Harbinger_, the _Liberty_, the _Chancellor's Pride _and dozens more. As each ship emerged from hyperspace it opened fire on its Mandalorian counterparts, who were soon returning fire with a vengeance. Enormous bolts of plasma tore through both fleets, battering at shields, melting through hulls, blasting away gun emplacements, comm relays and engine exhaust ports.

"Issue a command to Admiral Karath that the _Leviathan _is to lead the _Defender_, the _Saviour _and the _Coruscant _in a pincer attack," Revan barked at the communications officer. "The remaining ships will cover them but they must hurry!"

Rather than waste time on words of affirmation the communications officer immediately sprang into action, hailing the _Leviathan _and faithfully relaying Revan's instructions. Revan leapt up from his chair and, with Malak beside him, called up a map of the system. Reconstructed on it was a scaled-down, real-time, holographic image of the battle, and Revan half smiled as he watched the ships under Saul Karath's command manoeuvre into the positions he had ordered of them. As he had predicted, the Mandalorian ships were too preoccupied with the remainder of the Republic and Jedi forces to counter the flanking attack, if they had noticed it at all, and were caught in the trap. Even so, Revan knew that it would be no easy task to achieve a victory in the battle.

"Malak, stay here," he ordered. "Command the ship in my absence."

"Where are you going?" Malak asked, and Revan thought that he could hear a note of panic in his friend's voice.

"To the hangar," Revan replied simply. "I'm going to join our fighter pilots."

It took Revan five minutes to walk from the _Valiant_'s bridge to its hangar, by which time the Mandalorians had managed to scramble a force of starfighters of their own, and battle between them and the Republic's _Aurek _and _Chela_-class craft was joined. Wasting no time, Revan sprinted over to his own craft, named the _Defiant_, a custom made fighter of a design reserved for members of the Jedi Order, opened the blast shield and climbed into the cockpit. As he fastened himself into the pilot's seat and closed the blast shield once more, Revan addressed T2-E9, the black-tinted astromech droid that served as the _Defiant_'s permanent jack-of-all-trades, dealing with any mechanical issues that Revan might encounter, as well as relaying any signals from the fleet to him and vice versa.

"Raise our deflector shields Teetwo," he instructed as he warmed up the _Defiant_'s weapons systems and engines. "This is going to get chaotic."

T2-E9 emitted a low whirring sound in response, a noise that conveyed the little droid's nervousness to Revan.

"We'll be fine as long as we both do our jobs," he assured the astromech. "May the Force be with us."

As he gave the traditional good luck wish of the Jedi Order, Revan activated the _Defiant_'s repulsor lifts, propelling the starfighter – as well as the man and droid aboard – up off the polished metal floor of the hangar. In a single moment, Revan turned the _Defiant _so that it was pointing towards the one-way blast shields that would allow him to leave but keep any enemy craft from entering and urged the starfighter forward, into the maelstrom of battle being fought in the space between the two opposing fleets.

Immediately Revan was forced to take evasive action, rolling the _Defiant _out of the path of three stray laser cannon rounds. Whether fired by Republic or Mandalorian craft was impossible to say, but Revan was certain that they would have immediately collided with the _Defiant_, tearing through its deflector shields and destroying it, had it not been for his instantaneous reactions thanks to his affinity for the Force. But it would not do to dwell on what-ifs, not when there was a far more important matter that required his urgent attention.

Speeding forward into the fray, Revan opened fire with the _Defiant_'s gun emplacements, and although most of the Mandalorian fighters managed to avoid the deadly fluorescent bolts their formation broke, allowing Revan's allies to get in between them and pick them off. But even despite this success, that had been only a single squadron of Mandalorian fighters, and hundreds more manned craft were even now rushing toward the Republic forces. Under normal circumstances this would have spelled a quick end to the battle, but under the effects of Meetra's battle meditation the Republic pilots were able to perform almost superhuman feats. Their reaction times had been significantly shortened, their piloting seemed to have miraculously improved – and Revan was well aware that many of the pilots flying alongside him were elite already – and, crucially, their morale was unfaltering.

"Red Group, break hard left," Revan heard over the interfighter communications. Immediately upon the order being issued, Revan saw the fighters of Red Group perfectly execute the order and, in so doing, evade a hail of laser cannon fire sent their way by the oncoming Mandalorians.

"Revanchist to all fighters. Blue and Silver Groups on me," Revan ordered, manoeuvring the _Defiant_ into position as he did so. "Flying Wedge formation." The corresponding fighters complied without hesitation, and soon a dozen _Aurek _and _Chela _craft were behind him, fanning outward so that their formation resembled an arrowhead, with Revan at the arrow's point in the _Defiant_. "Hard forward," Revan ordered, and simultaneously thirteen starfighters lurched forward, all of their guns blazing in fiery unison. Thanks to the shape of their formation, none of the Republic fighters' guns were hitting any of their allies but were instead reserved for their intended targets.

And then Revan noticed five or six Mandalorian fighters peel off from the main thrust of the great onslaught of fighter craft that even now bore down upon him. He quickly hailed the leader of the nearest squadron of fighters – Gold Squadron.

"Revanchist to Gold Leader."

"Gold Leader to Revanchist. What are your orders sir?"

Speaking quickly and with urgency in his voice Revan said, "Several Mando fighters have broken off from the main group. Deal with them."

"Copy that Revanchist. Gold Squadron, you heard him."

Revan could not stop to watch the new battle that broke out as Gold Squadron engaged the Mandalorian rogue craft, but the comms were keeping him well informed. Within a few minutes, Gold Leader had reported that all of their enemies had been killed, though in a sombre tone he added that they had taken four of his Squadron with them. Revan allowed a wave of sadness to envelop him, as well as the realisation that, even when augmented by battle meditation, his forces were by no means superior to their Mandalorian enemies.

A great flash of white tore Revan's thoughts away from melancholy and back to the battle. Looking toward the source of the incandescently bright light – no sound because sound, of course, did not travel in a vacuum – he saw a colossal fireball, easily many times the size of the largest Republic ship, tearing through one of the Mandalorian capital ships. Looking as closely as he dared for fear of blinding himself, Revan saw that the main source of flames appeared to be the engines, and he surmised that a blast from a Republic ship had caught the engines, intentionally or not, which had immediately ignited, the flames given life by the oxygen present in the small, artificial atmosphere that the ship's life support systems created around the vessel. Quickly the inferno claimed the whole ship, which finally exploded in a colossal flash of intense light and heat. As the twisted shards of metal that had once been its hull drifted into Taris' orbit, Revan hailed the bridge of the _Valiant_.

"Revanchist to _Valiant_. Revanchist to _Valiant_. Do you copy?"

"Copy that Revanchist," came the immediate reply. "What are your orders?"

"Scramble all Jedi starfighters," Revan commanded. "Relay that order to all ships at once."

"Yes, sir."

Within minutes the Republic starfighers had received Jedi reinforcements, and the Forceful nature of the new crafts' pilots was showing clearly. They dodged, weaved and evaded many of the Mandalorian fighter's attacks, sometimes pre-empting them and taking out the warriors of the clans before they even had a chance to respond. Some might have argued that this was against the Jedi Order's code of ethics, but Revan would have refuted that. He and his forces were fighting a war for the greater good, there was no higher moral purpose. All actions were permitted, in his view, as long as they were carried out in active pursuit of that greater good.

Malak's voice sounded into the _Defiant_'s cockpit.

"Master, the Mandalorians are falling back." Revan looked directly outward, in shock. Surely the loss of one ship would not have given the Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders, arguably the very finest warriors in the galaxy, cause to retreat? But then Revan realised that they had not just lost one ship. Further away, on the periphery of his field of vision, almost invisible against cloud circling Taris' atmosphere – as well as the glare of the system's primary – Revan could see the wreckage of almost a dozen Mandalorian ships and, fast approaching, the ships responsible. Five Republic _Hammerhead_-class capital ships, their forward cannons still blasting great balls of fluorescent fire at their enemies, were advancing slowly on the back of the crumbling Mandalorian lines. Revan did not know when they had been ordered around the back of the enemy lines, but he suspected that Malak, under the influence of Meetra's battle meditation, had had a wave of strategic genius and had ordered a small strike force of heavy ships to circle round the back of the entire Mandalorian fleet, so that they could strike at precisely the right moment. Under normal circumstances, Malak would be incapable of conceiving of such a tactic ; his friend had many abilities, but Revan knew that Malak was far more likely to simply order any forces under his command to batter at their opponents until one side was crushed.

_Give him sole command_, Revan thought, _and he'd just bombard the kriffing planet_.

Revan turned the _Defiant _back and directed it back towards the _Valiant_'s hangar, knowing that the true battle, the battle for the surface of Taris, was still ahead of them.


End file.
